As I walk towards the entrance of the Park on 90th Street, I pass an older man of color asleep in an alcove of a prewar building, now home to an embassy.
His name is James, who has lived outside in Carnegie Hill (86th to 96th along Fifth and Madison), for the past 40 years.
I’ve watched him age as a young man, his black hair turning gray then white, with a full set of teeth, now down to 3, causing him to whistle a bit when speaking.
He’s sane, well as sane as one can be being humbly homeless for so long, and friendly, since he’s known to at least two generations of Upper East Siders. I recall him telling me he stopped smoking, because it was bad for him.
He sleeps across from the lady in the box, a woman I’ve written about, also on the streets way too long. There’s comfort in this, knowing, James would never harm her, but protect her if necessary.
Is it a wonder a homeless man can be one to count on?
In James’s case, yes.
I remember years ago, faithfully attending 7 a.m. mass at The Church of Saint Thomas More, while James snoozed in a back pew, snoring soundly.
The late, Bishop Ahern, the sweetest member of any clergy, would excuse himself from the altar to gently shake James whispering, “James, could you please snore a little quieter?”
James would jump and say, ‘Sorra’, sorra’ Bishop, I’m so sorra’.”
Bishop Ahern would answer, “That’s okay son. Have pleasant dreams,” blessing him before commencing with mass.
Peggy, a longtime worker at the church told me, many members of the parish, including Jackie Kennedy, tried helping him with work, as well as finding a home.
He always politely declined, she said, even when the Bishop, whom he liked tried, preferring to just live his life like a man, perpetually crossing the desert in no hurry to reach the Promised Land.
I don’t know about you, but after looking at all I have, often taking it for granted, find great poignancy in that.
Pride promotes strife, but he gives grace to the humble… James 4: 1-4 
Amen.
SB
Susannah, it’s hard for me to even begin to imagine living homeless for 40 years. It sounds as though James has many people who care about him. It must bring comfort knowing he is not alone.
I’m often guilty of thinking about what I don’t have (and don’t need) instead of what I do have. The story of James will remind me to give thanks for those I care about and those that care about me..
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You and me both, Skinny. Need to keep that cup half filled rather than empty. I known that people feed and give him things he accepts, since he wears a warm jacket and will have new sneakers every once and a while. It’s very humbling to say the least. Thanks for reading about James. Wonder if his ears are ringing. 🙂
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Thanks for writing about a real homeless man. To me “homeless” is a faceless group. You’ve given me a name and an outline of his life, and you’ve done it with grace and compassion. God bless you and James.
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I just saw him sleeping in his alcove as if it were a hotel room minus a door, his sneakers neatly lined up along with an orange and a bottle of Poland Spring. I’m so used to seeing him there that it’s a regular early morning vista for me. It’s not right, is it, yet it seems right, according to the book of James. sigh. Thanks, as always for your kind words never taken for granted.
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God has a way of making us see things differently.
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He must be so busy these days, that God.
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Thank you writing about this real and meaningful person. Too often society forgets them.
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It’s because homelessness has become the norm. How did it happen? I don’t remember it ever being this bad, those asleep in boxes, some with animals they didn’t abandon. Yes, you can give money here and there to those who humbly take it, though there too are some who demand it, that scare you for fear of being harmed since, many on the streets of New York are mentally ill. James is just his own man for better or worse. He lives in the day his needs modestly met. There’s such a lesson in all of this. Thanks for writing.
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A great lesson today, Susannah. We should give the man his pride and respect his choice. There is honor in being one’s own man. Thanks for sharing.
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Yes there is. He’s noble in his truth, even if it’s hard sometimes to understand it.
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Great point.
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Like a Number 2 Pencil…:)
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Don’t run with that in your hand. 😁
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LOL
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40 years? That’s just kind of amazing.
While there is something to be said for the stripped down simplicity of his life, I would prefer still having a roof over my head.
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An alcove with walls.
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We are so quick to judge, aren’t we? I love that you have given him a voice and a raison d’etre. He has chosen this life, obviously, as he refuses any help to get him off the street.
I read a wonderful book about such a man: “From the Edge of an English Summer: This sort of thing doesn’t happen round here (Wordsworth the Tramp Book 1)” by Michael Wynne. He’s a fellow Friday Fictioneer and I try to read all of their books, and leave reviews to help them in their sales. I’m still catching up 😉
It was a truly enjoyable romp of a book as is part 2 “Outsiders”.
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I love to read too. Such a grace. Yes, we are quick to judge but, we strive to do better.
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Oh I know you do.
And as long as we keep striving, there is hope for us.
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Always hope, till we breathe our last.
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Absolutely.
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SB
The further along I got, the more I realized that the moments were the only things I really wanted to own. Everything else was dust. So I get that walk of his. It makes total sense to me. And I wish him peaceful dreams.
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EVERYTHING ELSE WAS DUST…Pull that Marco. How grand a line. 🙂
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Pull it? Consider it done.
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You need to start paying more attention to your throwaways, comment wise. Pearls you discard. Her two sense. 🙂
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I will SB. I promise.
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Many pearls lurk in casual parlance, either spoken or on the page.
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Uh . . . takes one to know one. You dish up some mighty fine vino in your own right.
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For a non drinker, I take that as real praise. 🙂
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You should.
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I’m pawing the ground.
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Purrrrrfect
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I’m whinnying.
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It is a little hard to fathom the ones who truly want that sort of life, but how many of us really live the life of complete self-direction?
We have many homeless people in our small community and a camping area has been established that many of them use. It has Porta-potties and a dumpster, plus a number of other things. Still, one resident died of exposure recently. I always wonder why they don’t live somewhere warmer. But mostly I wonder why we don’t have better social safety nets, like in Scandinavia. Why must we, as a country/society, spend so much on weapons of war and giving tax breaks to wealthy individuals and corporations? We could all be healthier and better educated with a reordering of priorities.
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You know Eileen, we can make an endless list of the things in our beloved country that make no sense. Look what’s happening right now, how if he could, our sitting President would hire an Oswald to take his successor out, and no one can stop the harm he’s planning on doing before he’s forced to leave. The homeless? No one cares about people dying of Covid 19 let alone those on the street…without masks to protect one another and those in their vicinity. It’s every man for himself, including us since, we’re so on our own. I’ll tell you, I never thought I’d see this in our lifetime and I guess, when you look at our history with its many challenges, it was a haughty, arrogant assumption on my part. Always happy when you write.
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The pendulum does tend to swing both ways. This mean, selfish age, I think, will end, just as the Gilded age did a century ago. I hope to see it before I go.
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Despite its disturbing opulence, I love reading about The Gilded Age finding it so fascinating.
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It can’t be an easy life living on the streets but there is a certain contentment about someone who just lives their life and is happy where they are, despite the hardships. I want something better for him, but it’s the sort of thing that you can’t force on anyone. He sounds like quite a guy.
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What I forgot to put in the piece was, how he stopped smoking…said it was bad for him. I just loved that. Maybe I’ll go back and slip it in. Yes, living where your feet are at all times has its benefits, you’ll get no argument here.
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James is the definition of authentic.
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Without a roof over his head. How many men do we know who aren’t in debt?
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I read the Tao, as part of my journey in France. It clearly advises not to have debt, to live the simplest of lives, I think James gets that. I have a roof over my head, but our house needed a new roof on the kitchen for over 3 years, with the rain pouring in at times, but we wouldn’t get any loan to fix it, we waited until RD could cash in his pension. The bank offered us a credit card and overdraft recently because I was earning a good wage. But we said ‘no’, because it would have trapped me in a job that I hated. The girl at the bank laughed when I said we don’t want debt, I don’t think she realised we don’t have any. I get James, I understand his choices, it enables you to be free. We learned our lesson, just have to remind ourself each day. Homelessness is one of the charities that I will give to when I go back to work in Ireland, even if I am on a low wage, because there are some who don’t want to be homeless, and it stops so many opportunities for them, it’s a passion of mine. But… I also get why people choose it, they truly have learned.
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Dear Rosie..this is so beautifully told, not to mention, well written. I too hate debt and stay out of it best I can, the weight of it, just not worth its weight in gold, if you will. James of course, is an extreme, but his message resonates just the same. Thank you.
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It does, I shared your blog, I hope it resonates with others. ❤️
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You’re kind and it humbles me, greatly.
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